she was your playhouse playmate
and you kept her well when she was born.
now she’s grown so slow, like a river’s rage-
her soul lies forgotten.
she’s all messed up and torn,
her face is screwed and wet with tears,
her hair is marked with drops of blood,
you left her isolated - elsewhere.
just because
her pulchritude has turned to rust.
you can no longer
display her, flaunt her, show her to the world…
her purpose has left her body
you grab her slowly by the arm
staring into those deep brown eyes and then—
her shadow flew to the east...















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